It was late into the night when Loki nearly finished his tale. He spared many details; details that would go unnoticed by Evere whose knowledge of Midgard was scarce. However, if there was one thing that transcended the realms was the feeling of raw emotion, and he recited his story with as much of it as he could muster. What scared him the most was that he didn't have to reach too far to find it.

With only a small candlelight illuminating the space between them, his eyes were fluttering shut as he recounted small details. Evere was attentive, asked questions when necessary, but never ventured too far. And he appreciated that, and for the moment, he lost himself into the sea of words that used to flounder his mind.

"You should sleep. You'll need rest for tomorrow," Evere ushered, guiding him to the small guest bed in the corner of the hovel.

"We shall speak more tomorrow," she promised, giving him a small, but sad smile as she blew out the candle, and the familiar scent of smoke permeated his senses until it vanished.

He awoke with the sun that morning; it stopped snowing, and only a bright sky greeted them. Loki sat up and noticed a pot of stew with a hunched over Evere.

"We must leave soon. I was going to wake you when I finished."

He accepted the bowl graciously and sipped it, coming to terms with his situation. "Who is Lieutenant Morl?" He asked, referring to Laufey's command from yesterday.

"He's one of the most well-regarded Jotun and he's fought in many battles. Lately he's been training the men for the war," she said softly, clearing his bowl.

"Do you not support the war?" Loki asked at the sudden change in her expression.

"I…" She began, searching his face for deception, but he opened up a part of himself to her and her conscience acquiesced. "It would not be appropriate of me to say otherwise. But you must understand—I had hopes and dreams just like everyone else. My husband wants glory, and he shall get it at the price of death. There will be no victor, Loki. Asgard knows the tales well, and the Jotuns have prophesied it for as long as I can remember. This war is inevitable, but that doesn't mean I can accept it with open arms. Not when my child is near."

He met her words with silence as he turned away and she sucked in a breath of defeat. "We should go. Will you tell me the end of your story as we walk?" She asked, her eyes lighting with anticipation.

"Of course," Loki answered, stepping out into the abrasive cold.

"…She wanted a child. That was the only thing I couldn't provide," Loki said, his voice carried off by the wind as they trudged up the hill. One hand was on the small of Evere's back as he helped her up, his concern growing.

"Perhaps it's better that way," she regarded, taking another step. "You would have left the child without a father."

Loki had no reply to that, and the base of the camp was at the foot of the hill. "Will you join me?" He asked.

"Just for a moment. My husband is there."

"Since I do not think my story holds well for these ears, let me part with you here," he spoke sincerely, looking at her. "I wish you the best of luck, Evere. May your child be blessed with the strength of a thousand Jotuns."

Evere flushed marine and beamed back, "I'll let my child know that they have the blessings of the Prince of Jotunheim. Good luck to you as well. The journey will not be easy from here."

And from there, they parted as Evere made her way to the camp, asking for her husband, Kaul. Loki watched as a bulky Jotun male appeared from one of the tents and took his wife in his arms, looking at the swell of her belly.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Morl," Loki said to a group of Jotun men who snickered as he walked past.

"You must be our new prince," one of them jeered, and Loki glared with indignation.

"I am. Laufey—My father—Sent me here himself. Now if you'll please—"

"Laufeyson!" A male Jotun barked, and by the state of his attire, Loki assumed he was the Lietenant. Cloaked in furs and metal, Morl walked with languid authority. Loki's eyes were immediately drawn to a scar that ran down his leg, but there was no sign of a limp.

"Yes," Loki said, facing him, noticing that the general was at least five heads taller than him.

"You will debrief our men on the state of Asgard. You will let them know every nook and cranny, every vulnerable part of every god and goddess. Any secret that would be helpful in this war, you will reveal them. Do you understand?"

"It would be my pleasure," Loki rebutted, a sly grin growing on his features.

"Good. Once warm ups are finished, we will gather at the center. Join the men and follow along. Just don't get in the way," he growled.

Loki was no stranger to work and physical work as no exception. The Jotuns' method of preparing for battle was not unlike Asgard's, if only more primal, and he followed along with ease despite his stature. True, he used magic to help him along, but that didn't matter as long as he accomplished the task.

None of the other Jotun bothered to converse with him, to which he only responded with equal hostility. He was a joke, and he knew it as well since a slap on the back would send him plummeting into the ground if he were not on his guard.

Thor's strength stemmed from his own powers, but the Frost Giants had brute force that could only be garnered from their species. Loki tried to remind himself that he was also one of them, despite his strange stature, and with this knowledge, he took his place at the center of the camp.

Speaking was one of his strong points, and he commanded attention as eager ears drank in the secrets Asgard held; to Idunn's apples, and to Thor's mighty hammer, he knew the gods and goddesses all too well.

Morl stood off to the side with a wicked grin, occasionally nodding every so often in Loki's direction and had a messenger take notes as Loki spoke. It would have taken years, maybe even centuries to reveal every detail, but he spoke as long as he could, letting his scorn guide him.

The soldiers were beginning to grow restless, so Morl dismissed them and ordered them to continue training, while others split off to craft more weapons.

"Our strength is invaluable, but so is a good weapon," Morl said to Loki, who he guided to the other warriors.

"However, our physiology is our greatest asset against our opponents." Loki recalled when Fandral was touched by a Frost Giant in battle; how it scarred and rendered his arm useless. If that Frost Giant had held on for just moments longer, Fandral would have surely lost a limb.

Loki was ordered to go train with the others, and this consisted of sparring. He watched as they threw forcefully punches, then followed by an ice spear. They never sought to fatally damage—they couldn't afford to do that, but the tact was all the same.

"You," one of the Jotuns gestured to him. "Join us," he said, swinging a punch to Loki's side, and Loki cloaked himself in flames on instinct.

The Jotun hissed back in fury and stared at Loki with menace. "That's cheating!" he drawled, taking another swing, this time with his arm enraptured with ice.

"How is it cheating if I'm using what I have?" Loki challenged, throwing a dagger into the Jotun's stomach. More attention from the camp drew to them, and a circle formed around their battle area.

"You're weak. Fight like one of us, you coward!"

Indignant, Loki clutched the snowy ground and launched his own spike of ice. It was miniscule compared to the larger Jotun, so it berated his chest and fell with a weak crack.

"You dare call yourself a Prince of Jotunheim when that's all you can do?" The Frost Giant stepped closer to him and pressed a foot on Loki's back, causing him to groan in pain.

"Get up and fight like a warrior," he said, pressing deeper. Loki clenched his teeth, and cloaked himself in flames again. The Frost Giant wailed in pain, recoiling immediately.

"Leave him to his tricks. Obviously he can't do more," said another Jotun, grasping Loki's opponent by the shoulders to guide him away. He spit into the ground and gave Loki one more look before turning away to the join the others.

"Laufey will be returning to the palace at sunset. Go meet him, your work here is finished," Morl said, helping Loki up with a hand. He gave him a pitied look, as if he only saw him as the poor misshapen prince of Jotunheim in that moment. Blinking, he continued, "Do you know the way?"

"I'll find it," Loki said through pursed lips and turned his back on the camp as he heard roars of laughter. Morl didn't urge for more conversation and turned away as well, leaving Loki to depart.

Time and weather was strange in Jotunheim. It seemed as if daylight only lasted for a few hours before the world was enveloped in darkness again, and dusk didn't seem to exist at all. He lapsed into another memory of the sunset from not only Asgard, but on Midgard. It was by no means a color show, but his memory prickled at the faint glow of the sun and the reflection pooled in the rivers of his old home.

"That's why I moved here. The beauty, the atmosphere. It's all conducive to my imagination and I feel like I can really breathe around here, you know? You should visit again sometime. We could sit on my favorite bridge and watch the sunset. I'd draw, you could wax poetry-Sorry, am I being creepy?"

"No, not at all. That…That actually sounds really nice..."

He was nearly the village, and he recalled that Evere's home was just beyond the hill. Debating whether to pay her another visit or carry on, he heard a shriek come from that direction, followed by a violent clatter.

Instinct took over, and he found himself by her home and a small light flickered through the window. She was crying—and there was another voice attempting to soothe her.

Dawning on him, he wondered if he should even go in, since he knew that birthing was not meant to be viewed. However, the wooden door of her home was kicked open vehemently, followed by a shout.

"I'll be right back, I swear. Please hold on!" Kaul was running from the house and towards the village, and Loki ran to meet him.

"Kaul!" He shouted, seeing the panicked look on the Jotun's face.

"Prince Loki—" He panted, not breaking pace. "This isn't a good time. Evere's giving birth but she is unwell. I am unfamiliar with childbirth, but she's so weak and she is complaining of the pain. I'm going to find the healer, so please excuse me—"

"I'll tend to her while you go," Loki rushed out, and the look of surprise on Kaul's face did not go unnoticed.

"If you're sure."

"I know magic," Loki affirmed, already heading back towards Evere.

She was collapsed on the bed when he found her, eyes closed and moaning with pain. "Kaul?" She managed to let out, blinking open one eye.

"He's heading towards the village. It's Loki," he said, sitting next to her, placing a hand over her forehead. Yes, she was very weak. Almost too weak to have the baby, and he swallowed with worry as she squirmed beneath him.

"I can't move. The baby is coming but there's nothing I can do…"

"Hush, just relax," he soothed, the tone in his voice a stranger to him. Moving his hands down her shoulders, he offered energy to her body, but it wasn't enough. Not for childbirth.

Attempting to find other means, he tried to remember what the healers on Asgard did. Asgardians never contracted illness, and the only reason why they would need the healers is if they were wounded in battle. Births were not as common, but they did happen and without complication.

Kaul stormed through the door with a healer at his heels, looking livid at Evere.

"Out of the way," she clucked, pushing both men aside and poked at the basket she had with her. There were a few bottles of medicine, ingredients that were unknown to Loki.

"You carry light," he observed and she shot him a weary look.

"Most of it has been stockpiled for the war. I brought what I could. Evere," she said in a gentler voice, moving her attention away from Loki. "Are you contracting?"

"I…think so. It hurts," she moaned, and the healer took a vial and placed two drops of whatever was in it into her mouth.

Crying out again, Kaul looked at the healer, distressed. "Isn't there anything else you can do?"

She shook her head. "We must wait."

"Will she be okay?" He asked, taking his place at Evere's side.

"I don't know. She is weak from the lack of food," the healer said with disdain.

Evere let out a scream and clutched her stomach, eyes opening with fear. "It's coming!" She cried, and the healer quickly shooed both Loki and Kaul out of the house.

Anxiety permeated the air as they both leaned against the side of the house, and Kaul strained an ear for a sign.

"What an awful time to have a child," he said as if scolding himself, and Loki could only agree with silence and they waited for another ten minutes.

"DO SOMETHING!"

Both men jumped from the animalistic cry, and they ran into the house. The healer was pale as she guided the child out of Evere, and her hands shook as she extracted the child. There was no crying.

"Evere, I can't—It's-"

Moaning, Evere collapsed into the pillows and Kaul rushed to her side, taking her hand and began to pray. Loki watched as the healer took the stillborn child from her womb and swathed it in rags.

"Evere's still in pain," Kaul begged, looking at both Loki and the healer.

The healer turned her head. "There is nothing I can do. Fate has her now."

Quick as lightning, Loki moved the healer aside and placed his palm onto Evere's stomach. "Evere, I need you to listen to me. This is going to hurt, but you have to be brave. You will live, I promise you."

She only wailed in return, and Loki began his process, letting his once dormant magic flow through him. It was dangerous magic, due to its nature and exctraction of his own energy, but he recalled the healing spells he once used. Simple, but how hard could it be to put more power into it?

With a final cry, Evere fell limp onto the bed, eyes closing and Loki's heart sunk the moment she fell. The air was silent, nothing moved, and the tears that fell down both the healer's and Kaul's cheeks ceased to fall.

"Ah!" Evere gasped, jerking upward, causing another jolt of pain to run through her. They all breathed a sigh of relief, and Loki ushered Evere to lie back down.

"How are you feeling?" He asked carefully as Kaul pulled a blanket over her.

"Alive," she said, wiping away her tears, but she paused in realization. "Where's the baby?" She asked, her voice cracking at the last word.

"He didn't make it," Kaul said, holding the small bundle. "He's so small, Evere. He wouldn't have made it even if he lived," he said, running a finger down the child's cheek. Loki's throat began to tighten up, and he rose to leave but Evere held him down gently.

"Can I see him?" She asked, reaching for the baby and Kaul warily deposited it into her arms. "He's beautiful," she whispered, holding him close. "So beautiful. You would've grown up big and strong just like your father…" Tears streamed down her face as she placed a final kiss on the child's forehead, and handed him off to the healer who went away.

"Thank you, Loki. I wouldn't have lived without your magic," Evere said with a sad smile, and patted his hand.

"We owe a lot to you. If there's anything you need, anything we can provide, don't hesitate to let us know, okay?" Kaul said, composing himself and extended his hand for Loki to shake.

Loki placed his small hand in Kaul's large palm and shook with confidence. "There's no need to thank me. I owe it to Evere for giving me shelter. I'm afraid I must leave now though, the king is expecting me," he said hurriedly, already making his way for the door, but paused before he opened it.

"Good luck," he said, turning to meet each of them in the eye.

"The same goes to you," Evere said, giving a small wave and Loki nodded in return as he stepped back into the winds of Jotunheim.

He wouldn't have made it even if he lived.

Was that what Laufey thought when he saw Loki for the first time? Or maybe he didn't even see him—maybe his mother knew from the moment he was born. Left alone to die in the cold tundra of Jotunheim only to be picked up by the king of Asgard. What a fate he had!

Swallowing, he followed the trail back into the village. Magic. Magic is what saved Evere, and magic is what drove him through life. And yet it was frowned upon here; not nearly as much as in Asgard, but even then, he was often teased for not wielding his own sword like the Warriors Three or even Sif.

But how could he be a coward when he used something that literally came from himself? If anything, wouldn't that make him stronger? He pondered, finding himself in the village square again.

Only one more chapter from this Loki's POV, I promise :) Thank you all for sticking with me despite my erratic update schedule. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

On another note, I changed my pen name to match my tumblr url. I'm sorry if this caused anyone confusion, but I thought I'd let you know!